


To Be Soft

by Vasilisian



Series: Loving a Witcher [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, But feelings are hard, Complicated Relationships, F/M, I love the snarky relationship Yenn and Jaskier had in the tv show, Idiots in Love, Jaskier and Geralt got together during the time Geralt wasn't with Yennefer, M/M, Makeup, Multi, and rather than choosing one, especially for these idiots, except I added some extra salt because of course both loving Geralt makes them meaner, they agreed to figure something out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vasilisian/pseuds/Vasilisian
Summary: They'd agreed, once it became obvious how much it hurt Geralt to try and choose, that they would share. But loving the same person isn't easy, especially when you have a rocky past.Yennefer asks Jaskier a question while the trio are traveling together and doesn't like the answer. Jaskier doesn't like her in general and Geralt feels guilty for forcing them to share the one they love.Things come to a head a few days later, but the result is something none of them expected.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Loving a Witcher [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861024
Kudos: 76





	To Be Soft

“To be soft with you is to invite mockery.” Jaskier glowered darkly at Yennefer, hand clenching the strap of his lute case. The sorceress glared back, that familiar ugly frustration flashing in her eyes, accentuating their unnatural purple color. He swallowed, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck as the air grew heavy with her anger, but she couldn't hurt him. Geralt wouldn't forgive her if she did, and that this was the one line she couldn't cross only served to anger her more.

“You speak of things you know nothing off, bard.” She hissed between clenched teeth, a sourceless breeze picking at her dark locks. The smell of lilac and gooseberries reached his nose, almost strong enough making him gag, but he didn't back down. leaned forward in fact, satisfaction sparking in his chest when she took a step back.

“I know you've hurt him. Many times. I know he wakes shaking at night, haunted not by memory of beasts but of you. He loves you and you claim the same, and maybe you do. But it's a painful love, forever balancing on the edge of a blade, where the only one to get cut is him. So yes, he comes to me when he's hurt, when he needs a soft hand to bandage his wounds and warm words to soothe the aches the world leaves him with.”

“And you only have yourself to thank for that, Yennefer. You drove him away with your anger and insecurity and sharp words, I simply cared for him as I've always done. That the comfort I gave him made him fall for me is not something you can fault me for. Loving those that care for you isn't a flaw.” Jaskier finished his rant with a heaving chest, fog curling out of his mouth. He hadn't even noticed the temperature drop, but now he couldn't miss the way frost crept around the edges of the window.

“Get out.” He didn't speak, didn't look at her, simply turned and left the room. Stepping into the narrow hallway of the inn was like stepping into another world, the warmth and sounds of the bar below leaving him unbalanced from the sheer contrast of the room he'd just left. Shaking himself and dredging up a smile from somewhere, he went downstairs, trying his best to ignore the shaking of his hands.

Jovial voices greeted him, some inviting him over to their table while others called for a song. He waved them off, making up an excuse about tuning his lute. Retreating to a calm corner, he opened the case and began fiddling with the strings, surprised to find they actually needed tuning. But then the memory of frost surfaced, and he understood. Even in it's case the cold have reached the lute, and temperature changes always threw the strings out of tune.

“You're hands are shaking.” The gravelly voice drew his gaze like moth to flame, even if he'd already noticed the witcher's approach. Slitted yellow eyes met his, the muscles around them tensing when Geralt saw just how unsettles Jaskier was.

“What happened?” Jaskier looked down at his lute, fingers moving over strings and twisting pegs in an attempt to regain his composure. Geralt was the last person he wanted to see him like this, especially when the man knew he'd gone up to talk to Yennefer about their next destination not ten minutes ago.

“Nothing. I talked to the sorceress, and she lost her temper with me as usual. I think she might be jealous. Understandable, of course. I mean, it's me, what isn't there to be jealous off.” He huffed at a particularly stubborn peg, wiggling it back and forth in an attempt to loosen the grip his lute had on it. Bloody witch and her bloody magic, she better not have ruined his lute.

“Dandelion.” He stilled, hand dropping limply into his lap.

“Not here. Just, leave it please. I'll tell you all the riveting details later, but I've promised a young maiden and her companion a song to celebrate their betrothal, and I'm a man of my word.” I didn't break my promise to you, he didn't say, but Geralt hummed anyway, settling down on the chair next to him.

“It was already tuned.”

“Yes, well, our dear companion almost made it snow in the bloody room during her little fit, so now I have to do it again.”

“Snow? Fire is more her style when she's angry.” Jaskier winced, hoping Geralt didn't notice the slight movement.

“I guess I'm just that special. Now, I have a doomed pair to serenade, you sit here in a corner looking broody as you usually do. I haven't confirmed it yet, but I think it makes people more inclined to separate with their coin when you glare at them.” He got up, wandering over to the young couple while strumming up a familiar melody.

The young lad had stared at six different pairs of breasts so far this night, none of them those belonging to his lady, who was similarly distracted eyeing the roguish traveler lounging at the bar counter. He privately wondered if they'd even make it to the wedding, or if they'd break it off before then. Watching the way the young lady's eyes went from the traveler to him, lighting up with delight and a bit more as he sang about destined lovers, something the young man noticed, he bet on the latter.

–

It was only four days after the fight at the inn that Geralt brought it up again, and Jaskier wouldn't have minded it if he hadn't chosen to do so while Yennefer was also at their small camp.

“You two fought about something. What was it?” Jaskier fumbled his notes, the soft melody he'd been strumming stopping abruptly. Yennefer just sighed irritably, picking at the rabbit Geralt had caught. Seeing that she wasn't going to answer, Jaskier scowled and plucked at his strings.

“The sorceress asked me a question and didn't like the answer she got.”

“Jaskier-” Geralt's voice held an exasperated tone, and he looked up, meeting yellow eyes with anger.

“I kept my promise, I spoke only truth! That she's a jealous cow is not my fault.” That got a reaction from the bitch, her eyes once more flashing with power. The campfire surged, sparks dancing through the air as she leaped to her feet, rabbit falling forgotten.

“If the truth were water, you spouted nothing but bog water!” Geralt also shot to his feet, getting in between him and the witch, hands out as calming a startled horse. Jaskier hated that it made her step back, the fire calming with her deep breaths.

“Jaskier, you promised to explain.” For a moment, he wanted to deny an answer simply to spite, but the set of Geralt's shoulder told him that wouldn't end well.

“She asked me why you allowed yourself to be soft with me and not with her. I told her that to show weakness to her invites mockery, along with some other truths she didn't like.” His words did nothing to ease the tension of Geralt's shoulders, not that Jaskier had expected them to. The animosity between his two lovers had never sat well with Geralt, who was far more fragile when it came to those he loved than he let on.

“Yenn-”

“He's a petty bastard. He liked having you to himself, he hates that you still love me-”

“He's right.” It was like he'd hit her. Yennefer flinched, hands spasming at her side like she didn't know what to do with them.

“You are difficult to love. I do love you, you're everything to me, but you have not made it easy.”

“Geralt-” Jaskier turned away, unable to deal with the raw emotion on Yennefer's face. There was so much pain there, something she'd never let him see before, and to know he'd helped draw it out made his gut squirm.

“I know you've not had an easy life, that you've suffered. Love makes you vulnerable, and too many have taken advantage of that. It makes me love you no less, but you do not do well when I show you softness. Jaskier demands it from me, demands to see my weakness and softness so he can nurture it. He loves me in a different way, in a way you cannot, just as you love me in a way he will never truly understand.”

The faint sounds of shifting cloth drew him to look back at the pair, seeing that Geralt had raised his hands to cup Yennefer's face. Her eyes shone brightly, not with power, but with tears she refused to shed.

“I don't expect you to get along with him, but you agreed to be civil. You knew he wouldn't spare your feelings when you asked that question, yet you asked it anyway. I don't know why-”

“You are the only man I still trust to love, yet I have to share you with someone that's done nothing but mock me since we've met.”

“In my defense, you did try to kill me. And then you broke the heart of the man I've been in love with for years.” Rather than angering her again, his words drew a bark of a laugh from the woman. It surprised her too, eyes widening minutely as she looked past Geralt at him.

“You do have a point there, Jaskier.” He startled, nearly dropping his lute as he gaped at her. In the nearly four decades since he'd met her, not once had she called him by his name. Bard, bastard, fool, even bitch on one memorable occasion, but never Jaskier.

And Jaskier, he'd been just as bad, hadn't he? Even after they'd agreed to try being a trio rather than forcing Geralt to choose, he'd never once given her a chance to prove that she was more than the woman he'd judged her to be.

“I guess I do, Yennefer.” Geralt hand dropped his hand and was now looking between the two of them, wondering what he'd missed. He knew that them using each other names meant something, he just didn't know how they'd managed to go from fighting to better than ever before in the span of minutes.

“What...?” He trailed off, thick white brows drawing together. Jaskier set down his lute in it's open case, getting up and walking over to his lover to pull him down into a soft kiss. Geralt was slow to respond, confusion and Yennefer's presence keeping him from sinking into it in his usual manner. But when there was no reaction from behind him, he slowly relaxed, lips moving along with Jaskier's.

Dragging his hands up Geralt's hips, Jaskier moved up flush against the larger man. Pulling back slightly from the kiss, he smiled and opened his eyes, staring into searching yellow without hesitation. Pecking once, twice, he stepped back, wandering back over to his lute and making himself comfortable on the ground.

“You can have him for the rest of the night, I've a new song I need to figure out.” Yennefer stared at him for a few seconds before she smirked, one hand darting out to grab Geralt by the back of his belt.

“You heard the bard, into the tent. The sooner we start, the more sleep you'll get.” It was only after Jaskier smiled at him that Geralt moved, but for once his hesitation didn't draw a sneer from Yennefer. The two disappeared into her magical tent, which he nearly needed to talk his way into someday, if only to keep from having to sleep on the ground.

But he hadn't lied about the song, starting up a soft melody after a few false starts. It was a love song, as many of his works were, but it was missing the edge they'd all had the past few years. It was fragile and new like spring's first sprouts, but there was an undercurrent of potential strong enough to leave any listeners breathless.

They'd be fine. Odd and ill-fitting and a little sharp, but they had all been like that since the beginning. Maybe that's why they'd been drawn together, drawn to him. A witcher who was a good man, despite everything the world had done to make him otherwise. A bard who somehow convinced the world to tolerate and even admire those they'd shunned. And a sorceress who refused to let other define her fate, no matter how they tried.

Somewhere, those who sat on webs spanning the world shivered, as if a mystical warning whispered behind their backs.


End file.
